Without the Highs or the Lows, Where Would We go?
by Poseidon's Chickadee
Summary: [Hiatus]Chapter 5 up! Sometimes it takes us a while to care to see what's right in front of us. Sequel to If Destiny Talked in Your Head Supernatural x Charmed crossover
1. Waiting for the Hint of a Spark

Chapter 1: Waiting for the hint of a spark Pt 1

Dislcaimer: I own neither Charmed or Supernatural or the songs 'I Will Follow You Into The Dark' and 'Beautifully Broke'  
The journal entries are actual canon entries (except for three TINY add ins) and can be found on the Supernatural site, Wikipedia, or the Supernatural LJ I am not making a profit from this story and just seek to use the characters and the song as entertainment purposes only

:-)

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November 6, 1983 

I buried my wife today. Even as I write that down, I don't believe it. Last week, we were a normal family… eating dinner, going to Dean's T-ball game, buying toys for baby Sammy, teaching Paige how to fish. But in an instant, it all changed… when I try to think back, get it straight in my head… I feel like I'm going crazy. Like someone ripped both my arms off, plucked my eyes out… I'm wandering around, alone and lost and I can't do anything.  
Mary used to write in these books she kept by the bed. She said it helped her remember all the little things, about the children, me… I wish I could read her journals, but like everything else, they're gone. Burned into nothing. She always wanted me to try writing things down. Maybe she's right, maybe it will help me to remember, to understand.

November 13, 1983  
Nothing makes any sense anymore… my wife is gone, my children are without their mother… the things I saw that night. I remember hearing Mary scream, and I ran, but then… everything was calm, for just a second – Sammy was fine – and I was sure I h ad been hearing things – too many horror movies too late at night. But then there was the blood, and when I looked up, my wife….  
Half our house is gone, even though the fire burned for only a few hours. Most of our clothes and photos are ruined, even our safe – the safe with Mary's old diaries, the children's savings bonds, what little jewelry we had… all gone. How could my house, my whole life, go up like that, so fast, so hot? How could my wife just burn up and disappear?

I want my wife back. Oh God, I want her back…

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Property of Paige Elizabeth Winchester  
Touching leads to the end of my shotgun down your throat.  
I mean it Dean! November 2nd, 1989

I guess I should start off by introducing myself, 'cause Missouri said that's what I should do and any one even with an itty-bitty half a brain knows you have to listen to Missouri. Even if she ain't around. So, I'll do it. This introducing myself to a shitty piece of notebook. Even though it's dumb. I'll do it.

My name is Paige Elizabeth Winchester and I'm twelve years old this past summer. I have mousyish brown hair which falls just past my shoulders and is wavy. It's dumb and boring and not at all like Missy Steversons dark brown. Or Brigitte Braedon's red. Boring, stuck in the wood-work brown hair. I want to cutit but daddy won't let me. He says something of it reminds him of mommy's. Which is dumb cause I remember mommy being a blonde.

I have brown eyes, I guess. And the Winchester jaw and chin. Clefted and stubborn, or that's what Missu says.

I have a family. As messed up as it is, you could call it a family. I've got a dad and my two brothers after all.

My Deano, whose ten, and my Sammy whose six. They're the best brothers in the world. Just don't tell them I say that. Especially not Dean. Sammy you can tell though, 'cause he's our baby and is so cute when he's rubbing at his runny nose and he thinks no one can see. I had a mommy once but she died when I was little. A fire. Don't remember a lot about that day and I never wanna. Daddy doesn't say about it much but daddy doesn't say much 'cept for 'No, Paige I can't take you with me' or 'Paige had me a beer' or 'Girl, don't you listen? Are you always trying to get yourself into trouble' or he grunts.

The reason my family isn't much of a family is 'cause my daddy is always gone. Not around. And he always takes my brothers with him leaving me with Missu, which is great even if she makes me work but I don't mind, or Uncle Bill and Aunt Ellen. Which is cool too 'cept Aunt Ellen is way more stricter than Missu but that's okay 'cause uncle Billy always makes it better. They feel more like family than my own family, I adore Jo as much as I love Deano and Sammy. She's so cute. She snuggles up with me when Uncle Bill reads us bedtime stories, makes me think of another time that I can't remember. My mommy used to read me and Deano stories, I'm pretty sure. It's just a feeling. I like it at the Roadhouse. It's a really cool name. Say it with me. The Roadhouse. All the most interesting looking guys show up, but Uncle Bill and Aunt Ellen always send and Jo away. Sometimes though I think they're all hiding something from me. Especially the adults. I know it's dumb but sometimes they'll look at me and frown, not Missu though she smiles like she knows some big secret. It's all dumb and really annoying. I think it might have to do with where daddy and my brothers go.

Where does my daddy go? Your guess is as damn good as mine. Which isn't a damn much at all.

He goes places with Dean and Sammy and doesn't come back for months.

He takes me sometimes but only to drop me off someplace to stay "safe". What's so dangerous that Sammy can go and I can't? Is it cause I'm a girl? That's dumb. I can defend myself, HE showed me how.

I can shoot and throw daggers, hell, I can even frickin lasso! Why the hell can't I go on the trips too?!

There is not good enough reason. 'Cept one. And I thought about it real hard and it sort of makes sense. He don't, doesn't want me around cause I ain't his. I'm adopted you know. I heard it once while daddy was good and drunk and yelling. He doesn't think I heard but I did. Which started me thinking about all the stuff people used to tell me. Oh, how about how much I looked like Mama, especially when she was younger. Or the Winchester chin thing. Or how I was a Winchester brat all the way (that's one of the reasons Missu gave me this notebook. Cause she said it was and would be a Winchester thing). Was it a lie? All of them just to make me feel better. I spend a long time looking at my chin and mommy's pictures. I don't think I look anything like her but I do have the chin. So maybe I heard wrong. 'Cause when I get with Deano and Sammy it doesn't feel like they ain't my brothers. It feels like they're mine more than anything in the world. More than daddy. So maybe all three of us is, are adopted?

I don't know. It makes my brain hurt. This is dumb. Real dumb. Writing in a notebook. A Winchester thing. Yeah right. I'm not really a writer. I mean I guess I could, but I think I got no unspi ... inspiration. Sammy'd be the writer. He has a big thinkin' brain, my Sammy does yeah even if he is only six. Deano would be too, cause he doesn't talk about things. He keeps it all inside. Won't say a damn thing that goes on when he and dad and Sammy leave. My Deano used to tell me everything now it don't tell me nothing. It hurts but I'd be happy if he had a diary, or journal, orsomething to say it to. 'Cause my Deano has a lot to say. he's a big softy he is. He'd shoot me if he ever read it but he's as good as a girl with his great big heart and how he worries about everything and how he is so protective of me and Sammy and I'm the biggest!

So I journal would be good. Me. I don't realy need one. I talk and talk a lot. But Missu says that talkin' ain't worth a damn if you don't say what's really gratin' ya. She says I don't do that. Because I'm too stubborn and afraid that people won't like the real Paige Elizabeth Winchester. Which is dumb. I asked Dean if he thought if I was afraid of sharin cause I was scared of being a lone he shrugged and said that was a dumb and girly question. That's when he laughed and called me Princess Pouty face. I didn't hit him that hard for it 'cause he hadn't laughed since he came back from his trip.

So here I am writing, though it's dumb. But I'm not going to complain too much about it, 'causa the other reason I'm writin this. The other reason I'm writin this is cause I'm not a real good listener. I don't like it when people tell me no and don't give good reasons. That's just stupid. If you ain't gonna share don't have it at all or hide it better. Daddy isn't that good of a hider, 'specially when he's tired. See. Thing is I wanted to know what daddy does when he goes. I still do. So I went through his bag. Usual knife, guns, crossbow, he had some salt and some other dumb stuff in it but I didn't pay them no mind. The thing that I saw, that was the gold mind was this ratty old thing. His journal.

I thought I was in secrets heaven. Finally I'd know why he left me always. Like, well it don't matter like what.

But I didn't get past the first few entries. First cause he caught me and tanned my hide from hear to Louisiana and back and second cause I couldn't stop crying. My daddy seemed so human in those entries. It's why I don't hate him so much anymore, for leaving. Maybe it is 'cause I'm a girl. He thinks something attacked mama and maybe he thinks it'll get me to. Which is dumb cause I can fight. I can really fight. And shoot stuff.

And me and daggers? Outta ten tries I can get the bullseye seven times! Nothing can hurt me. No man, no woman. Nothing. And that don't explain not telling me where he's going? And the almost always ignoring me ... But I am getting carried away. I ain't mad at him, I won't be. At least not for the rest of the week. I'm gonna try to be a perfect daughter for him. To be like mama. Or maybe not like mama. Lordy knows if I can make him smile, and a real one not one of those crap ones that he gives everyone, that'd it might be all okay. At least for a little while. Cause I ain't dumb, sure I'm still a "kid" but I ain't stupid. I can see what that emptiness in his eyes mean. The tired lines around them. I like to draw, journal, and do you know how hard it is to draw tired lines and hopelessness? How hard it is to draw someone who wants to die. I know that's what the emptiness is. Daddy wants to leave us and be with mommy. I don't blame him 'cause I know if something happened to Dean and Sammy, if they died, I'd want to be with them. Both of them though. Couldn't leave one of them to suffer. Ever.

So, Missu figured that I would need this. So to give me something to do besides school, chores, my drawing, and choir. She figures that I'm gonna need it for the future. She said it could be the book I could put my shadows in. Funny way of putting it since shadows spook the shit outta me. Dumb I know but it's the way it is. I guess ...

November 2nd,

Back sorry. Dean was callin me. We went to sneak out, with Sammy.

To the local church. To light candles for mama. Daddy doesn't know we do it. Dean doesn't want to go out without daddy knowing but he don't wanna let me go on my own. He doesn't tell. Got to much on him.

I have to go cause Deano is giving you a look like he wants to grab you and I feel too good right now to let you go.

Besides daddy's here and like I said, at least for a week Ima try and be the perfect daughter. Get him a few beers or something.

Good night.


	2. If I Could Follow You into the Dark

Disclaiming all nothing is mine, currently not even the computer I'm writing this on. And that's the damn good truth.

A/N: It isn't meant to be a drabble. Cause everyone knows that a drab is One and Hundred and this is 150 at least, I think. I just felt short and confusing and sad was John at that moment. No need for long winded dialouge or self-evaluation and whatnot.

AA/N: Title is a tiny twist from the Death Cab for Cutie song. Love that song.

Enjoy!

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Chapter Two: If I Could Follow You into the Dark pt 1b 

It was the only one left. The picture he'd found in the glove compartment. He missed her, and it was part of her. So he held it feeling the fire of warmth flowing into him with the aide of amber liquid. It called to him the picture of his Mary. Gave him dreams of walking into her arms and leaving the crumbling all behind. The picture made him want to, it did. The picture of her laughing with the children. Taking another swig of the bottle in the paper and fumbling with the cold metal of the only thing that could give him peace, John Winchester let it, the picture, slip down the edge into six feet of nothingness. It hurt yes, but the damn tunnel still had three pinpoints of life on his side. For now the darkness wouldn't win but he would still play with the shadows.


	3. Past the Words and Into the Pain part 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Paige Matthews, she is a product of Brad Kern and Aaron Spelling. Nor do I own the Supernatural 'verse, they're Mr. Kripke. I just enjoy playing with them in the non-naughty sense of the word. The small poem-ish thing is mine

A/N: The following 3-5 chapters will be based on John's Journal entries (the earliest ones). The entries can be found on the site Winchester Journals, or on Wikipedia.

AA/N::Bold:; //Italics//

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If you could look into my Journal and read the fear and the tears 

Would you able to be able to comprehend that a part of me dies, with each stroke.

I try to be faithful and keep remembrance of times past, day by year.

Could you read past the sunny words and discern the lies?

If you tried, should you try would you read past the words and into the pain

Pain that numbs, brings shadows and no hope. Pain that leaves me broke

like a beggar without a pencil who only has feelings.

If you tried to see into me and see my heart cry.

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November 26, 1983

Paige stood in the corner, peeking out from the door way, listening to a conversation that she wasn't supposed to be listening to. The police had come to talk to her daddy about what had happened to the house, what had happened to mama, and daddy had told her to go play with Deano and Sammy. But Paige really didn't want to. Her brothers were fast asleep wrapped around each other and for the life of her Paige wouldn't have been able to join them off to dreamland if she wanted to. Uncle Mike and Aunt Katie had offered to take her out and buy her some ice cream. She had vehemently refused. She wasn't going to leave her daddy or her brothers alone for a second. No matter what any one said, she wasn't going to leave any of her family alone for a single second. After all she had left mommy alone and looked what had happened.

Sliding down on the floor Paige wrapped her arms around the only thing of hers that hadn't went up in flames. It was a baby blue blanket that had this funny dark blue symbol on it and it had been hers for as long as she could remember, it hadn't gotten destroyed because she had left it at Aunt Vickie's house. Her mama's friend had been nice enough to bring it over to Uncle Mike's house. In the back of her mind, Paige didn't think it was fair that any of her things survived while everyone else's stuff was gone forever. She didn't think she deserved it. Just like she didn't think that the police should be asking her daddy questions that they should be asking her. She was the last one who had been with mommy. She was the one who had left mommy even though she knew, she had sensed that something was wrong. She had seen the blood on Sammy. She had seen the nasty shadow. She had seen it all. Of course she didn't say that. She didn't want them to take her away for letting her mama die. She was such a chicken but she didn't want to be away from her brothers or her daddy. She didn't want them to stop loving her. Because she was pretty sure that daddy wouldn't forgive her. The way he cried at night when he didn't think any one knew, the way he seemed to walk around like he was dead. The man that walked around wasn't really her daddy anymore, well he was, but it was like the shadow had not only burned down her house and killed her mommy but had taken her daddy's spirit too. He didn't smile at all anymore. And that was her fault. She knew she should say something, say something to get those stupid police people to stop asking questions that made it seem as if it was her daddy's fault. Daddy didn't do anything but love mommy. Daddy hadn't been the one to leave her, he hadn't been the one who had been scared, he hadn't been the chicken. However, she couldn't say any of that. She wouldn't.

So, she stayed and listened to what they asked her father and would only make herself known when they asked the wrong questions. That had only happened four times before. Daddy didn't like her hanging around when they asked him those stupid questions but it was all she could do. She had promised herself, and mommy//that ::night::// that she wouldn't let any more harm come to her family and she was going to keep that promise. Besides it wasn't as if she could get any sleep.

Paige had been so intent on listening to the conversation that was happening in the kitchen that she didn't hear the footsteps of the approaching police officer. It was all she could do not to scream when the man put his hand on her, but she managed it by biting down hard on the side of her cheek.

Realizing that he startled her the young officer placed a friendly smile on his face, however, the pallid and severely frowning little girl wasn't having any of it. She watched him with bloodshot hazel eyes, the way a weary prey would watch a new creature, weighing if it was friend or foe. The young man couldn't help the pang in his heart at the deep sorrow and wariness in her wide, pretty eyes. It was such a shame what things like this did to children. It seemed to him as if the innocence in the child had wafted away with the smoke of the now charred house. "Shouldn't you be up in bed right now?" He asked making sure that his voice was soft.

The child, Paige he remembered the sheriff saying, continued to frown at him. Holding his hand out to her, trying to make his smile more appealing and caring, "Come on, I'll walk you to your bedroom." It was as if she expected him to attack her she tried to sink into the wall behind her. "Or, we could stay right here and listen in. Don't think your papa would like you to be listening in though. It'd make him ..."He tried to think of something to say that wouldn't upset the child or belittle her but would make an impact. "I think he'd rather you play guardian for your brothers than him. Okay?"

She seemed to consider what he said before nodding slowly. Standing up with her back still firmly against the wall, Paige held her blanket tightly against her. Her eyes still wary. Knowing better than to offer his hand to her again he stepped back to let her go through. Moving quickly away from him and the wall she turned to face him with that frown that was way too severe for a six year-old, and a look of distaste and distrust clear across her tired little face. "Daddy didn't do it." She informed him angrily.

"I'm sure ... of course he ...Umm." The young officer sighed, everything he wanted to say sounded so trite. Passing a hand through his hair he sighed again. "Your daddy seems to have loved your mommy a lot but it's something that we have to do honey. It's our jobs. We don't want to ask any more than you want to listen to us ask." He assured her, hoping that he didn't sound very confusing. However, when he nodded it seemed that she understood him.

"You know the faster you ask the faster you leave." She informed him, her tone helpful if not forgiving.

He cracked a smile. "I'll be sure to tell my boss that."

"Good." With one fierce glare in his direction, she bounded up the steps as quickly as her little legs would allow her.

The officer watched her go up the stairs and listened for the sound of a bedroom door opening and closing.

He couldn't but think, with a slightly wider smile, that that little girl was going to give hell when she was older.

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John also watched his daughter go up the stairs, unknowingly thinking thoughts similar to her.

He wondered if she hated him for not being able to save her mother. He wondered if he could protect her, if he was alive enough to be her father to give herself and her brothers what they needed. He wondered if she still loved him and saw him as her daddy.

He thought of the brave little girl and her equally brave brother that had ran out a burning house holding onto their infant youngest brother. And he was proud.

Yet he couldn't help but wonder if he was strong enough to protect them from the world on his own.


	4. Ignoring the Bad Things part 2

See the disclaimer of the previous chapter. I am using John's journals to develop, not so much plot but background feelings and thoughts and opinions that will hopefully help things make sense along the way :-)

December 4, 1983

Last night I was sitting in Sam and Dean's room, in the dark, and I heard these noises… Mike said it was the wind, and okay, maybe it was, but it sounded almost like whispering, like someone was whispering a name, under their breath, again and again… like something is out there in the dark, watching us… I stayed up all night, just watching them, protecting them. From what, I don't know. Am I protecting them? Am I hurting them? I haven't let them out of my sight since the fire. Dean still hardly talks. I try to make small talk, or ask him if he wants to throw the baseball around. Anything to make him feel like a normal kid again. He never budges from my side – or from his brother. Every morning when I wake up, Dean is inside the crib, arms wrapped around baby Sam. Like he's trying to protect him from whatever is out there in the night.

Sammy cries a lot, wanting his Mom. I don't know how to stop it, and part of me doesn't want to. It breaks my heart to think that soon he won't remember her at all. I can't let her memory die.tever is out there in the night.

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Bad Things Are Always Easier To Ignore

"Daddy, I hear things." She wanted to whisper when he came into the room to check on her and her brothers. But she couldn't say that. After all she had promised herself that she wouldn't make him needlessly worry so she didn't say that.

But she did hear things, things like laughter, and shouts, and screams and a baby crying. Most of it was all in her head, the nightmares she had every night but she always woke up when Sammy was crying. Dean doesn't cry though, Paige is starting to think that he can't anymore, that his tears dried up with the heat of the flames. But that's okay, she's not sure she could cry any way and she didn't want to be the only weird one out. Sammy would be, since he was the only one who cried but that was okay with her. Her littlest brother would do what the older two couldn't.

Paige still couldn't sleep, at least not properly. And it left her irritable. It all left her very irritable. The thing out there. The nightmares. Sammy's crying. Dean not saying anything. Daddy being a ghost. Mike, Katie, Vickie, and Jerry all asking ... ALWAYS asking if she was okay. If her brothers were okay. Did she look okay? She had finally snapped. Sammy had stopped crying, Dean had just gaped at her and her father became alive long enough to make her apologize and send her to her room.

In her room it was harder to pretend and ignore and there was no one to listen to her so she could speak all she want. Something was out there. Something bad, she knew it. She could feel it, sense it like one could sense a tickle that never stopped or the leftover odor of a bad fart. Silent but deadly.

And she had to go after it. She was six but she knew that she had to go after it.

That scared her.

A lot.

She didn't WANT to go after anything. She wanted to stay at home and pretend it was all alright, of course she couldn't DO that because she was a Winchester and they never ran away from anything. They weren't afraid of anything. Which meant she would have to speak. She would have to tell.

Even if that meant that her daddy didn't want her anymore. Even if he felt that she let mommy die. She would have to tell. 'Cause it would help in stopping the bad things.

"Daddy. Daddy, I have something to tell you."

"Paige, what are you doing here? You know you're punished and besides you're supposed to be in bed now."

"But daddy, it's important. I have something to tell you. It's about the bad things. I hear them daddy."

He looked at her now, really looked at her but he might have not been looking at her with how unfocused his eyes became. As if he was still in denial, as if he was going to deny it to her. For what? She knew what she heard and denying never solved anything. "Paige go to bed." He finally said.

"But da-"

"Now." Came the sharp reply.

Paige frowned up at her father, disappointment clear on her features. If she could have put it all in writing she would but she still had problems with her 's' and 'h'. She would have to just and try to tell him tomorrow. 'Cause ignoring the bad things never solved anything.

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Watching his daughter go, John placed his head in his hands a feeling of dread over coming him. These 'bad things' could Dean and Sam hear them too? Were they haunting his children? What WERE they? He needed to know what they were so he could find them and keep them away from his kids.

It would be best if he kept them away from the 'bad things' as long as he could.

What harm did a little ignoring ever do to anyone?


	5. GuiltRidden Makes Me Smile part 3a

I own not Charmed nor Supernatural. Mike and Kate aren't mind either, they are actually from John's journals (As is the excerpt before the story). Only Vickie and Jerry are mine, and they are barely mentioned so need to worry on that :-)

Thanks to those who waited for my muse to get back on track! Really appreciate it.

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December 17, 1983

I met someone… someone who I think might be a friend, to me and the boys. For the last couple of days I've been visiting… well, psychics, I guess would be the term. I wandered past a place, and I don't know, I just walked in. Two months ago I would have laughed out loud if anyone told me I'd be doing this, but at this point I'm not sure where else to turn. Anyway, I went inside… it was a total scam. I watched this guy read some palms… he'd just parrot back what people were telling him, or give them broad stuff – "someone you love is worried" and they ate it up. Like I said, it was bull, but for some reason, later that afternoon I went to another… then today, I went to Missouri. And the second I walked in, I can't explain it… it was like we'd been friends for years. She knew every detail, not just of my life, but also of me… my thoughts… fears. She was the first person who didn't look at me like I was crazy when I told her my story… she just listened, and nodded, and then she told me she believed me.

An hour later I was back… with the boys. For some reason I wanted her to see them, to meet them… maybe to tell me they were okay. They both loved her immediately… Sammy sat in her lap the whole time, smiling, and Dean talked nonstop… he never does that anymore. I don't know, if it were just me, maybe I wouldn't trust her, but seeing the boys warm up to her like that… There's something there. I think she can help me.

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"We're going on a little trip guys."

Dean looked up at him, the frown that had taken over the formally usually smiley face curving even more downwards than usual. Giving a feeling of severity that had no place on any four-year olds face. Stopping his new habit of smacking the back of his spoon on soggy cereal- instead of eating it - Dean blinked up at his father as something passed over his features as he tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow. It was a question and acknowledgement at the same time. It was waiting to hear more and possibly waiting to do. Which was funny because Dean hadn't looked at him like that for a better part of a month. In fact, Dean hadn't talked to him for a better part of a month. And in a way John was kind of glad that he hadn't because he was afraid if his oldest son had all that would spill out would be recriminations and hurt and anger and a little boy's ache for his dead mother. And while he knew it was selfish, John didn't think he could deal with all that right now and that had caused guilt and caused John to fall even more into a funk. A bigger funk then their charred home. House.

However to have his oldest son look at him like that, like he still trusted him, like Dean wanted to do something and be alive and not follow in John's footsteps and continue on as an existence as a ghost; it caused John's throat to constrict.

_'He's like your little solider, always following your orders and go to the next step' Mary turned towards him and laughed, her smile becoming that of a mock scold. 'He'd follow you to the ends of the world, so you had better stop that cussin'!'_

Oh his Mary. How she had been wrong. Looking at Dean now, the frown warring with a look of curiosity the former hard emerald of his eyes softening to a more moss green ... his little brow still cocked up. Looking at his son now John saw that his son didn't follow anyone's orders but his own. Now Dean did as he said because he felt that he knew best but one day, one day if John were to ever go down the wrong path and if Dean believed enough in himself ... Dean wouldn't stay in John's shadows, no his son had all the makings, all the ability to surpass him. All he needed was a little guidance.

Problem was, John didn't think he had it in him to be a guidance to anyone. He didn't want Dean to be in his shadows. He didn't want Dean to make his mistakes. Sometimes John wondered if it would be best to leave his kids with Mike and Kate or Vicky and Jerry and just go ...

He was too weak to do such a thing. He was too week to loose his only living parts of Mary. He couldn't leave his boys. But he might be able to leave his girl.

Cutting his eyes to Paige, who hadn't once looked up since he made his announcement, he felt his heart break even more. If Dean was a ghost, then Paige was long gone. She didn't smile, she barely slept, she only talked to her brothers, and that one time to him. The one time to warn him about the bad things. Fear had gripped John when his daughter had come up to him: scared, determined, earnest, came up to tell him that she knew that there were things that really went bump in the night and John had been so damn scared. Was what killed his wife coming for his little girl too? Was it better to leave her or was it better to just take her and keep on running and hoping?

John had always been good at running.

Watching Paige as she patiently tried to feed the fussy Sammy; her face screwed in exasperation and frustration and the tiniest bit of annoyance as time and time again the infant would angrily push the spoon into his sister's face, causing it to splatter all over her. John watched as her bottom lip trembled before she huffed and rolled her eyes and patiently tried again. Only to fail again. But she would try and she would try until she managed to get at least five successful spoons of mashed bananas into the baby's mouth. Then her hazel eyes would twinkle, an equivalent to a grin.

It was all in the eyes with his kids.

"What do you think, fairy? You want to go out?"

It took John a while to realize what he had said to cause her head to shoot up and back as if he had just slapped her. The nickname. He hadn't called her that since That Night.

Goddamit! How could he have not seen how much she was hurting?! He had seen it for Dean. He had noticed for Dean and for Sammy. Dean didn't talk and Sammy couldn't stop crying. He HAD noticed that Paige was hurt in a way. It was a given. She would lash out at times and she really didn't sleep. But he hadn't noticed the guilt, and the disappointment, or the fact she only ate just enough to keep herself going. He had thought it was directed at him but maybe ... it was all towards her? Why would she be guilty? Why hadn't he seen that his little girl was hurting like that?

Was Dean's pain at himself too? Did his son blame himself for his mother's death too? As ridiculous as it sounded but would baby Sammy?

Why hadn't he noticed that his kids, as strong of a face that they put, were so vulnerable?

Paige looked at him and blinked rapidly for a long moment, before shrugging. "If you want."

Paige never deferred to him. Not since she was three. It was always 'Daddy, I want to do this ... Daddy, I CAN do it, lemmie try ... Daddy, I won't because this is better ...' Never just 'If you want'.

Turning her attention to Dean, he watched as she gave a brother a look that was a cross between an affectionate smile and a scowl, "Dump that and get some new cereal and ya better eat it before it goes'n get's soggy or Ima force ya."

Dean turned around and gave his sister such a glare and stuck his tongue out at her. She was the only one who could get a real reaction out of him anymore.

That made John wonder. If Dean was supposed to be his solider what was Paige?

"Well now that settles it. We're goin'."

"Going where?" Kate asked as she breezed into the kitchen, a careful smile in place and she reached over to pat Dean on his shaggy head. Nevertheless, she seemed to stop and pull her hand back as if she was burnt, a sheepish smile taking over the plastered one.

For the first time John noticed, since today seemed to be the day that he was actually noticing his children, that Paige was just sitting there her eyes holding Kate's. And a wealth of things seemed to cross between the two females. Moreover, for the first time in what seemed like forever, John find himself biting back a smile.

If Dean was his obedient solider, meant to be his own general, then Paige was his feisty cub, meant to be the new lioness.

"Out." John replied. It wasn't really any of her business where he took his kids.

Apparently Kate thought it was. "John." She started carefully as if she were speaking to a slow but especially volatile child. "It's raining. Maybe, another day, okay? I'm sure even the places that you ... those ... I'm sure everything worth going to is closed early this weekend."

In translation: I think it's best that you don't take the kids to those crazy people who keep feeding you 'false' information about how Mary died. It's not healthy. And you're nuts to be even thinking to take them out in this weather.

Even though it's barely drizzling.

John felt his fists clench and he leveled the annoying, negative woman with a dark look. "It's not even twelve yet. Pletny'll be open."

"But John. It's raining."

"They have rain coats."

John and Kate both missed the look that Dean was giving both of them, they didn't notice that Sammy had stopped fussing and was looking at them too. Paige didn't even bother doing so. She really thought that Kate was nice but should mind her own damn business; she wasn't family so she really had no say.

Looking back and forth between Kate and his father a few times before looking at his little brother and his older sister, Dean sighed and pushed off his chair. Going into the hall closet, he tugged down his and his sibling coats. His dad already had his on.

"... really. I don't think those are places-"

"Never asked you what you thought Kate." John tried his best to grind out patiently. He got that Kate was worried, and somewhere deep down inside it actually touched him, but it wasn't really any of her damn business.

With another sigh Dean drugged the coats into the kitchen and gave them to his sister. They both put Sammy's on, then she helped him button his up before she lastly put hers on, all the while the adults continued to "talk". With a roll of her eyes, Paige gestured for him to get his father's attention. Cocking a brow at her, he silently asked her how which in turn she shrugged. Something else John didn't notice. His kids may not speak to him or aloud but they could "speak" to each other; Dean could read Paige like a book and vice versa. And they both knew what each one of Sam's wails meant. Their mother was dead and their father was broken but they did have each other. Paige wanted to make sure that they always had each other and Dean did too.

Trudging over to his father with one last sigh, Dean tugged at John's coat. Looking down at his son, John's eyes widened. And this time he did smile.

Kate frowned at him, "That boy does whatever you tell him to do."

Really?, John thought and he thought other parents begged for that. However, John's smile just widened. He hadn't said a damn thing to Dean, his boy did what he wanted. He was getting that courage.

So was the cub.


End file.
